Glory Days

I've always found the concept of a blog bizarre. In my world, at least, the idea of a blog is to somehow write down your thoughts. All those bullshits that float through your brain on any given day. When you're driving and imagine what it would be like for just that moment NOT to brake when the guy in front of you does. Or, instead of turning the corner and following the road, you go straight and see where you end up? what's really on the other side of that hill anyway? You've driven alongside it everyday for the past 5 years, maybe the grass is greener and elves are running around leading people to the pot of gold...I don't know man, all those things you probably shouldn't tell people, you can write down, anonymously...in your "blog".

When I was a kid I used to have a book with me all the time. I used to hide it under my mattress...and I used to call it "Vito", because it was my Italian Mob buddy. I could write the names and descriptions of all the assholes I knew down in"Vito" and unleash my wrath into the universe. I would imagine "Vito" setting out in the middle of the night, stalking my ex as he walked home from work and kidnapping him, locking him in an abandoned house and ripping off each toe...or something like that.

I was a pretty lonely kid.

I was too busy hating EVERYTHING to care about what New Kid set his hotel room on fire. Or, who Madonna was fucking. I actually didn't really know Hollywood existed until I was 19 or so. And, I still don't think I care.

Maybe that's why I never got along with people, scratch that, still don't get along with people. I always thought I just had horrid people skills, and recently I've uncovered that I just have higher expectations that most in who I associate with on a daily basis. It's one thing to have a Facebook account, filled with all those head shots of people from your past life. Where you can click "thumbs up" on one random, witty thing they manage to say in the course of a year, and then it's another to have to sit and have coffee with them on every break, and then go to a movie together after work. I just don't have those kinds of friends, or that kind of patience. 

When I was diagnosed with CML I had a lot of people, unexpected people, that wanted to get together and "chat". I didn't know how to deal with the sudden influx of interest in my life, so, I did what any good recluse would do, I hid. Stopped answering my phone, stopped replying to messages, emails, texts. Ignored everything. Does that make me a bad person? or, poorly adapted to live within society? I'm not so sure I can learn now. I don't know if I'd actually want to.

I was driving around the other day and while sitting at a red light a Cadillac Escalade pulled up at the light next to me. I thought to myself, how, when I was working in the corporate offices I wanted one of these beasts of a truck. I don't even care what's under the hood. I wanted it for the "status symbol". I wanted people to KNOW I had ARRIVED! ....

Yeah, not so much anymore. You spend a year out of that frame of mind and you start to question why you ever lowered yourself to get there in the first place. Where the fuck have you really arrived when you buy a $90,000 SUV exactly? Now, when I look at the middle aged guy sitting next to me at this red light, I don't wonder what he does for work, I wonder how much ass he's had to lick? how many sets of nuts he's had to fondle? How many times did he let that little piece of raw human die inside of him, in order to ensure he could make his next months lease payment? What about when he knows the truth about it, and with those polished white vaneers, and those glossed lips, he spins the truth so some hungry consumer can swallow it easier.

"No, you won't get cancer from this new sugar substitute, BUT, you will get a smaller ass...ZERO calories hunni! Ignore the fact it tastes like shit and gives you headaches if you stop drinking it, it's only $0.99/2 Liter! How can you resist? And, don't forget you get AirMiles with EVERY PURCHASE!"

Fuck sakes.

All in all though, I'm happy today. I don't really have much to complain about, and probably even less to write about. My blood counts are back to "normal" levels, and as long as I continue to take my pills, my doctors say "things are good". I have this funny feeling deep inside of my gut not to get too comfortable. Maybe it's just female intuition, or, perhaps we just know ourselves best. After trial and error I know that when things fall into place something snaps, and I take a nose dive. So, I can never get too cocky or too comfortable in what I'm doing, or where I am. Because the higher you are, the further you have to fall. And climbing back up just ruins freshly manicured nails.

The nausea is kicking in. I don't know if it's from reading this last post, or the chemo...either way, fuck off!